


The Situation

by esteefee



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-05
Updated: 2011-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:06:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For kristen999 for her early birthday. Her hawaii-50-hc prompt was: Steve - broken ribs and he still thinks he can work. Not a good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Situation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristen999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristen999/gifts).



> [For hawaii-50-hc](http://hawaii-50-hc.livejournal.com/34688.html?thread=156800#t156800).

"You can't be serious; tell me you're not serious," Danny said as Steve walked by. Well, to be strictly honest, Steve was moving at more of a careful mosey, and he took the opportunity to rest at Danny's office doorway and lean against it.

"Just here for some paperwork." Steve tried for a grin and was aware it probably looked more than a little ridiculous on his bruised-up face, but he was losing his mind stuck at home just waiting and thinking about the Teller case about to crack wide open now they had Parsons, and how his team would be jumping into the middle of it without him.

"Paperwork, right." Danny got up, and Steve envied him his ease of movement, the casual way he just strolled on over and poked one finger into Steve's bicep right into a bruise.

"Ow?"

"Ow is right, my friend. You're not even supposed to be upright right now! Let alone shuffling around like my Aunt Agatha before her back pills. Do I have to remind you about the concussion and three broken ribs? Three!" Danny poked his arm, once for each rib, and Steve twitched unhappily, making Danny's frown deepen.

"Tell me you did not try to drive here in that monster truck of yours."

"No, of course not. I took a cab." Steve didn't mention that even sitting braced against the jolts had almost made him give up and go home again.

"And yet, you're still an idiot, because you're standing here when you look like you're about to fall over."

"Okay, okay, I'll go sit—"

"You'll lie down, is what you'll do, on that nice long sofa in your office, and do this mythical paperwork that resembles Blazing Angels from the comfort of a laptop."

Danny was guiding him down the hallway as he spoke, and Steve had to admit he was more than a little grateful for the extra support. It felt like he had a runner's cramp times about a thousand digging its claws into his left side, and even though they'd wrapped up his ribs pretty tightly, he could just imagine how good it will feel to be sitting down again.

"Hey, boss," Kono yelled as he passed her office, and he gave her a weary wave as he kept shuffling on by.

"Where's Chin?" Steve asked Danny.

"Oh, he's around," Danny said airily and gave him a hand down onto the sofa. Steve held his breath until he had the support of the cushions behind his back, and then he let it out in in a grateful sigh.

Danny shook his head and muttered something as he retrieved the laptop from Steve's desk.

"What was that?" Steve grinned. "Sounded like pidgin."

"Try Yiddish. I said you are one meshugana son of a bitch, Steven." Danny handed over the laptop. "Just keep out of a trouble, huh? As a personal favor? Seeing as you owe me about a hundred."

"How do you figure?"

An unwilling smile creased Danny's face. "Why, I oughtta—seriously. Except then with the broken ribs and the punctured lung and the pneumothorax—"

"Oh, he pulls out the big words, now—"

"And next thing I know you're fashioning a chest tube out of a coffee stirrer from the break room—"

"You know me so well."

"I do, Steve. I do." Danny's grin fell from his face. "Don't think I don't know why you're really here. But if I see you doing anything but lying there like Paris Hilton, I'll give you what for."

"Aye, sir."

Danny narrowed his eyes before nodding firmly and leaving him alone with his laptop and his pitiful attempts at distracting himself.

At least here, though, he could hear his team, or two-thirds of them. Danny was busy yelling at someone over the phone—Steve couldn't hear what it was about, but he found the rising and falling tones weirdly soothing. From this angle, Steve could also see shadows of movement coming from Kono's office as she worked on whatever she was doing, possibly researching a lead. Steve wondered idly what Chin was up to while he powered up and pulled the files on Teller.

Yet for some reason he couldn't seem to read them properly. He found his old notes, sure—they were still on his computer, and when he went onto the server he found the Teller directory with all the images and files, but when he tried to squint at the data he realized the knock on the head he'd gotten yesterday was really messing with his ability to focus on the screen. Everything kept swimming in and out, and he started to get nauseated the harder he tried.

After a while he gave up in disgust and pulled up Blazing Angels, only to find out that was even worse. After losing two wingmen and crashing into the Tower of London he gave up and closed the laptop and his eyes as well.

"You doing okay, Steve?"

"Hey, Kono. Yeah, I just need to take some Tylenol or something."

She put her hand on his forehead, quick and light, gone before he could startle. "You want me to bring you some?"

"That'd be great, thanks." The truth was, even sitting up was getting to be too much. He was kind of wishing he hadn't left his bed at this point. Boy, did he ever hate it when Danny was right, but his ribs were starting to ache badly, and his head hurt, and he'd left his heavy-duty pain medication at home.

Kono's quick steps alerted him, and he opened his eyes just enough to take the glass she was holding out. She dropped a couple of capsules onto his hand, and he popped them into his mouth, chasing them down with the water.

"Mahalo, I really needed that." He finished off the water and handed back the glass.

"Sure thing, boss. You know, you could head back home, we're all—"

"Nah, I need to be here."

"Okay, brah. Holler if you need anything."

:::

A low murmuring of voices coming from the computer room woke him, and for a second he was disoriented—it had been a long damned time since he'd woken to anything but the silence of his empty home.

Then he heard Danny say clearly, _"We have a real situation,"_ and before Steve realized what he was doing, he was pushing himself to his feet.

A moment later he remembered a) he was injured; b) ow; c) even if there were a situation, there was nothing he could do about it—see a) and b).

A moment later Danny came into the room and busted him, still standing, one hand on his desk to lend support.

"I thought you were supposed to be lying down."

"I was!"

Danny eyed him.

"Seriously, Danny, I was asleep, and I guess I heard something, because the next thing I knew I was standing up." And hurting badly, now. He leaned hard against the desk, and saw Danny's face crease with concern. Steve forced himself to firm up. "What did I hear?"

"It's true..." Danny said slowly. "We have a situation. Chin's back, and we're rolling out."

"Fuck." Steve couldn't do anything. He could barely stand upright.

"You want in?"

Steve stared in shock. "Of course, but—" God, this was humiliating. "I'm kind of useless right now. You better just call in for someone from HPD."

"This isn't that kind of situation." Danny tilted his head. "Seriously, you can just stay in the car, but we need you."

"If you need me, I'm there."

It was embarrassing, the way Danny shadowed him to the computer room, and the frowns Kono and Chin treated him to once he got there.

"Hey, Chin. When did you get back?"

"Little while ago. You looked...busy." Chin gave him a straight-faced look that on anyone else would have been a mocking grin.

"Yeah? And howzit?"

"Just fine on our side, boss."

"Good. That's good." Then Danny was nudging him forward, and Steve didn't even have time to wish them good luck, or tell them to be careful on the mission. Everything felt a little foggy, and Steve realized he wasn't operating on all cylinders at the moment, which really worried him going into any sort of operation.

But Danny seemed calm as he helped Steve down into the low seat of the Camaro. There wasn't a chance in hell Steve would be able to get out again on his own, so Danny better have been right about not needing him operational.

"So, what's the situation?" Steve asked as they started moving. He braced his left arm around his midsection and the right against the door handle to keep himself as motionless as possible.

"Well, the situation is this," Danny said, smoothly pulling them out of the parking lot. "We got one John B. Teller cooling his heels behind bars, courtesy of the HPD Narcotics Division, which happened to scoop him up in a drug bust not two hours ago—"

"What?" Steve jerked a little too hard to stare at Danny's profile and paid the price.

"That's what our good Detective Chin Ho Kelly has been doing all afternoon. He took all our files on Teller down over there and established the guy's identity, since he was using a fake I.D. when he got snapped up, and the HPD only notified us because he matched the BOLO."

"You're kidding me," Steve said in wonder. "All that work, and we get him by accident."

"Not by accident! That's called good police work, my friend," Danny said. "And, hey, no grenades necessary. Chin just got back from booking his sorry ass for everything we got him on, trafficking charges plus murder one."

"Wow. That's...terrific." Steve let out a breath, then frowned. "So then what's the fire? We got another case?"

Danny shook his head, a rueful smirk on his face. "Well, the situation here is, we've got one stubborn-as-shit Naval Commander with three broken ribs and a concussion who won't stay in bed—"

"Danny—"

"Ah-ah-ah. We've got three other completely burned out detectives who would very much like to take the rest of the day off knowing their Commander friend is safe and on the mend. So, tell me what I'm supposed to do in such a situation, Steven?"

Steve eased back and rested against his seat. "Well, I guess in that case, you escort said stubborn ass home."

"Got it in one."

:::

Steve was right: getting out of the car was a hell of a lot harder than getting in. He finally gave up on helping and concentrated on wrapping both arms around his ribs and letting Danny haul him upright like a sack of potatoes.

Danny bitched the entire time about the hernia he planned to leave him in his will.

"Is that even possible? I think you might have to have it put it in a jar, first, Danno. Because otherwise it won't keep." The front door stuck, and Steve gave it a shove.

"Ew, that is just disgusting. Where do you even come up with—I swear to God, McGarrett, you and Max should open a carnival fun house or something. You could show them your scars and he could show off his specimen collection."

"And your hernia."

"You will not. I'll make that a stipulation in my will." Danny helped him down onto the couch. "You need anything?"

"Yeah," Steve confessed, "I could really use my medication. Over there," he waved toward the side table.

Danny brought him the vial of pills and a bottle of water. "What about food? Don't you need to eat food with that?"

"Not really hungry."

"Oh, I call bullshit all over that. I bet you haven't eaten all day. C'mon, we'll order a couple of pizzas, maybe invite Kono and Chin over. We'll drink beer and mock you since you can't mix it with painkillers."

Steve grinned outright for the first time in what felt like forever. "Sounds like a damned fine plan."

So, that was what they did. And if Steve finally managed to relax with his team around him, managed to laugh in spite of his ribs, and if the house felt about ten degrees warmer while he and Chin and Kono and Danny sat and shot the shit and Steve's eyes grew heavy, well, he could blame that on the meds, right?

That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

 

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> [Blazing Angels: Squadrons of WWII](http://www.amazon.com/Blazing-Angels-Squadrons-WWII-Pc/dp/B000ELTEAM/ref=sr_1_9?s=videogames). 
> 
> \- PC video game 
> 
> Heh. I had torn cartilage between my ribs once and I couldn't even move, so I figured, eh, even getting to the office with broken ribs was a Herculean SEAL maneuver. Hope you weren't expecting more, Kristen!


End file.
